


Your Bones

by UpsideAround



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Childhood, Gen, Life Lessons, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UpsideAround/pseuds/UpsideAround
Summary: When you lose someone you love, you'd do anything to get them back. Some will scream at the sky, pound at the casket, or sob quietly in the darkness of solitude. Sometimes, heartbroken kids will even attempt human transmutation.Trisha is not lost. She lives on in her children.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric & Trisha Elric
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Your Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any inconsistencies with canon, I'm too afraid to rewatch the relevant episodes because then I'll accidentally rewatch the whole show
> 
> Based off of "Your Bones" by Of Monsters and Men. Big 'ol thanks to pilot-doodles for the fic prompt & song rec!

“In the spring, we made a boat

Out of feathers, out of bones

We set fire to our homes

Walking barefoot in the snow”

—Of Monsters and Men; “Your Bones”

Alphonse stared up at the ceiling, tracing shapes in the ridges. His vision was growing weary, but he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. 

He reached up toward the ceiling and nearly jumped at the sight of his own arm. It made a _pang_ as he moved it, the noise reverberating through the house. That was new. He was this...metal can. Al shuddered and wrapped himself in the blankets. He wanted to cry in frustration. Why couldn’t he feel the soft embrace of a blanket? Why couldn’t he cry? Why didn’t the transmutation work? 

_Why can’t I breathe?_

Alphonse has no lungs anymore, so it’s no wonder he can hardly breathe.

He turned to his side and stared out the window. 

It’s certainly past midnight now, judging by the stars. Al carefully got out of the bed, careful to make as little noise as possible. His brother was asleep on the couch, covered in a blanket that had spots of blood on it. 

_His blood_ , Al realizes. He held back a shout—his brother needed to rest. He was already so pale and broken down. _His bandages are doing their job_ , Al said to himself, clenching his fists. _Brother isn’t going to die. Those red spots are from earlier when he was bleeding through._

He didn’t believe himself. 

_Okay, I’ll sleep out here. That way I can know if anything is wrong._ Al carefully picked up a stray pillow and laid down next to the couch. 

The rhythm of Ed’s steady breathing was comforting. Al let his vision go out of focus as he relaxed into the night. His limbs weighed against the ground, and Al laid there, waiting for the tendrils of sleep to wrap around him and pull him under. He laid there, waiting.

And waiting. 

And waiting. 

Nothing came. Al was just laying on the ground, with a pillow he didn’t even need. The chill of fear began creeping toward him again, and he began to shudder. His joints clacked together as he shook with sobs he couldn’t release. 

Ed stirred slightly. 

Al froze. He grabbed his own arm, steadying the clacking noises. He couldn’t wake Ed up. He needed to rest. He needed to _heal_. 

Al carefully picked himself up. Tiptoeing as best he could, he opened the front door and stepped outside. 

The wind in the trees was the first thing he noticed. It whistled and sang in the distance, yearning for something that it couldn’t quite reach. Bats chased after bugs that buzzed beyond Al’s field of vision, but he could hear the flapping of their wings. A cat yeowled in the distance. The stars glinted in the sky, and Al reached up toward them. No moon tonight. 

The outside is peaceful. Al wished he could swallow it whole.

“Hey, mom,” he said, to nobody in particular. “Could you read me a bedtime story? I can’t sleep.”

Only the crickets answered. 

Al pulled his legs in and tucked his head. His helmet clunked against his new kneecaps, startling a squirrel that had started to approach him. 

“Maybe tell me that one about that cool girl who isn’t afraid of anything? You know, how she’s the only one who can swim in the lake, or talk to that mean old man, or get past the big cows?” Al’s voice whistled through his armor as he lowered his voice into a near whisper. 

The stars only glimmered in response. The stairs Al was staring at said nothing. 

“And then, a tornado comes and she—she has to go inside,” Al said, barely able to get the words out. “B—But she can’t! Underground is the only thing she’s afraid of. But it’s terrifying.” Al tried to breathe but his body froze. Fear suddenly constricted him. He gripped the edge of the porch, trying to hold on to the earth itself. 

_And how does that story end, Al?_ The trees whispered back. 

Al tucks his head again, holding on tight to the stairs. “Her sister comes back. Her sister tells her it’s okay and they both go to the cellar. The end.”

This time, the trees are silent. 

“I wish you would tell me that one, Mom.”

* * *

Ed threw his shovel to the ground. This was it. This was her. Or maybe it wasn’t. He needed to find out. _What did we make? Was it really you, Mom?_ Every single move he made was just wandering in the dark, empty, cold unknown. 

His eyes burned as the rain poured down across his face, washing away the dirt and soot.

He tore at the ground, throwing the dirt behind him in a frenzy to find—to find—her? It?

He shuddered. The rain continued pouring, digging its own canels into the ground and pooling beside Ed’s desperate fingers ripping the ground away. There’s something here. An arm. A leg. A skull. Ed grabbed at the skull, peeling off a piece of hair that was still attached. He clambered out of the ditch and ran over to the bucket of water. He washed off the dirt and grime. All that could be left is the truth. He pulled it out and—

The hair is black. The hair is _black_. That thing isn’t his mother. She wasn’t over there. 

The world spun. 

_(A cluttered mass of flesh and disorganized bones stared up at Ed, sucking in air and all the joy of the world. Those horrible unseeing eyes bored right into his heart. It breathed something horrible and reached out_ —

_Mom?)_

His stumps ached down to the bone. He wasn’t sure why. 

* * *

Ed grit his teeth. When were they gonna quit being wimps and pull this thing out of him?

The two chimeras stared at each other, then back at him. They had their hands around the metal pipe sticking through Ed’s abdomen, but weren’t _doing_ anything about it. He was ready. He could do this. 

And then they pulled it out.

Ed nearly blacked out from the white-hot pain surging from his stomach. He stared at a single point in front of him, focusing on that one piece of rubble. _Focus._ He clapped his hands together. 

His life force began to flow through his fingertips. _Focus. Don’t make Winry cry again._ He tipped his hands toward the hole in his stomach, and poured his soul into stitching himself back together. The world flashed red and black as the pain threatened to swallow him whole.

He blinked and froze. The _world_ froze. The pain subsided for a moment. He felt the warmth of a smiling face surround him. His heart stopped. 

“Mom?” he croaked.

Light laughter embraced him. Everything was warm, and happy. He looked up and squinted at the silhouette in the distance. Somebody raised their head to look at him, hair sweeping down over their face. 

“Mom!” Ed screamed, his eyes dizzy and colors in his vision beginning to shift. 

He blinked and was still screaming when his soul returned to his chest. The pain was still shrieking white-hot shocks throughout his body, but Ed furrowed his brow with newfound determination. His life force wasn’t slipping away from him this time. He reached out and snatched it right back, shoving it into the hole in his side. 

The blood stopped. 

His blood was once again flowing through him. His chest rose and fell easier. The pain subsided. Edward nearly passed out from relief. Someone had been there. _Probably just delirium due to the pain_. It had to have all been in his head. The warmth, the laughter, the hair—

Was it gold or brown?

* * *

Pride doesn’t fear. He was above emotions like that. That’s why he was made, after all.

There had to be something else gripping his heart. There had to be something infecting him, coursing chills down his arms and settling in his stomach. It could be the coldness of his insides being exposed as his casing fell apart. Or maybe it was that Elric kid, staring him down, shoving his arm into Pride’s essence. Soul?

The cause didn’t matter because Pride was going to die. He felt it. Something was happening to him and he knew the walls around him were leering forward, ready to crush him. 

“He’s gonna kill me!”

Kimblee’s laughter cackled around him. “You don’t understand Edward Elric very well.”

Pride felt his mind shrinking. He was small, smaller, a tiny speck of dust in the sea of souls inside of him. His memories were draining away. He frantically tried to cling onto them but he was disintegrating. He tried to latch onto a piece, but it was ripped away when his arms became too small to hold it. The Fullmetal Alchemist wanted him to be tiny. 

_Just kill me!_ He wanted to scream, but his voice was so quiet amongst the waterfall of souls crashing down beside him. _I’d rather die! Kill me!_

Of course, that’s not what happened. Of course, that stupid sacrifice found the part of Pride that was still Selim. 

Pride was spinning, funneled into a single speck. Everything blurred into red as his vision collapsed down and crumbled. His own body caved in. Pride pushed back with everything he had, but the weight of it burned. All he saw was a set of golden eyes and a hand coming down to grasp him. To crush him? 

Pride barely had time to think before he lost the words:  
  
Who are you?

_Ed was six, squishing ants with his finger on the porch. He glared, squishing one right after the other. He didn’t even look up when his Mom came to sit beside him._

_“Ed, honey, what’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing,” Ed grumbled, crossing his arms, still watching the ants. He squished every fifth one or so._

_Trisha nudged him. “Doesn’t look like nothing to me. Looks like you’re taking something out on those poor ants.”_

_Ed pointed at the ground. Half a sandwich piece lay in the dirt, swarmed by ants. “I was gone for a minute! Only one stinkin’ minute, and they just stole it! So I’m squishin’ them.”_

_Trisha sighed and wrapped one arm around Ed, who immediately tried to wiggle out of her grip. “I’m sorry about your sandwich. We can make another, if you like? There’s no reason to just sit here and mope.”_

_Ed furrowed his brow. “I don’t need another one. I’m not even that hungry.”_

_“Then why aren’t you out playing with Al and Winry? I heard they’re gonna play pirates today.”_

_Ed squished another ant. “Because they might steal more of my food!” Squish. “This’ll stop ‘em for sure.” Squish._

_A breeze rustled through the trees before turning around and whipping up their hair into the summer sky._

_Trisha sighed and took Ed’s hand from the ground. “It doesn’t matter what they took from you,” she said with unwavering eye contact. “Remember to be kind. There’s always a better way.”_

_Ed scrunched his nose. “Why are you talking like that? It’s only a sandwich.” He rolled his eyes but stopped poking at the ants. He stood up and stretched. “I guess I’ll go make another one.”_

_Ed sprinted back into the house before his Mom could catch the grin on his face._

_“By hand, Ed! No alchemy in the kitchen!” Trisha shouted after him._

_A long series of complaints and grumbles sounded from inside, alongside the tell-tale screech of an alchemy circle being drawn by chalk into the kitchen counter._

_“And don’t think you can do it before I come back in, because I’ll notice! You’re not as sneaky as you think, Edward Elric!”_

_The chalk stopped. More grumbles came from the house, this time alongside the sound of a butter knife clattering in the kitchen drawers._

* * *

_Al was five, getting older and getting more curious. He stared up at the bookshelf in his room, up, up, up to that book bound in yellow leather. It had beautiful gold designs on the spine, and he desperately wanted to know what was inside._

_He looked around. Nobody was looking. He could just get up there really quick, and nobody would know._

_He gripped the shelf at eye level and took a step up, using the shelves as a ladder. The books wobbled. Al thought nothing of it as he took the next step up. And the next. One more would put him within arm’s reach of that beautiful gilded book; he reached up for it—_

_The bookshelf rocked forward, and suddenly he was falling alongside every single volume on its shelves. He reached for that yellow one—yes, almost got it—but he hit the ground, pinned by the weight of the shelf he had just been climbing._

_He opened his mouth to cry out for help, when—_

_“Alphonse? Oh my goodness, are you okay?”_

_He craned his head and saw his mom kneeling over him, pushing books out of the way to get to him. “I’m stuck!” he cried, suddenly very scared. He couldn’t breathe. How could he read that book if he was trapped here?_

_His mom wrenched her arm under the bookshelf. She found Al’s hand, and squeezed it once before she pressed up against the shelf. Al could feel her straining with her right arm as the shelf lifted barely an inch._

_But it wasn’t enough._

_She lowered the shelf slightly and took some deep breaths. Al stared at her, wondering why she couldn’t pick it up. She was his mom! She could do anything._

_Right?_

_She smiled at Al. “I have to go get help, honey,” She said, as she stood up. “Hold tight. I promise I’ll be back for you.”_

_Al stared at the books around him. He wanted her to stay here and put everything back. Why couldn’t she?_

_That yellow book caught his eye again. He tried reaching for it, but cried out when the shelf slipped and pinned him even tighter. It was all he could do to reach for that book and let the tears well up in his eyes._

_His mom’s footsteps were accompanied by the patter of Ed trying to keep up as she reentered the room. Al looked up. This time, they were holding a toolbox._

_The next hour was spent unscrewing the pieces of the bookshelf so they could be moved one at a time. Al held still, since squirming made it worse. When the last piece was removed, Ed and Mom reached out and helped him to his feet._

_Ed looked up at Mom. “Are we done? I wanna go outside.”_

_Mom smiled. “Are you going to remember to pay attention to your brother from now on? I’m sure Al was scared to death, trapped like that.”_

_Ed huffed. “Yeah, but he’s fine now! Can I please go?”_

_“Go put on your shoes and wait for Al.”_

_Ed grinned and bounded out of the room._

_“Al,” Mom said, kneeling down beside him, “what happened?”_

_Al trembled a little. He slowly pointed to that yellow book, which had been moved to the corner in the mess of undoing the bookshelf. “I wanted to see that one.”_

_Mom stood up and retrieved the book. “You know climbing can be dangerous. You’re really lucky you’re not hurt.” She ruffled his hair. “So this is what you were after? Have I ever shown you this one before?”_

_Al shook his head._

_Mom sighed and opened it. “Well, this one is special. It’s a long story, and doesn’t have any pictures. If you work hard, I bet you’ll be able to read it really soon.” She ran her fingers through the pages for a moment before closing it and handing the book to Al._

_Al gingerly reached out and Mom placed it on top of his hands._

_“Go ahead and put it by your bed, we’ll practice some tonight,” she said, walking toward the door. “But then come outside with us! The rain stopped so it’s sunny again.”_

_Her footsteps faded down the hall._

_Al looked down at the book she gave him. The front was a picture of a lone house with a single window alight. A metal fence surrounded it, with the gate in the foreground. The title was written above the moon in grand blocked letters:_

_“C-O-U-R-A-G-E”_

_He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wrapped his arms around the book and held it close._

Panic set in. Al could hardly move, each tiny change made his armor crack and disintegrate further. 

That man with Dad’s face stalked closer and closer to Ed. Ed, who was stuck against a boulder with his automail ripped off and his good arm skewered by a stray cable. 

Al’s mind raced. What could he do? His brother was stuck there, and all Al could do was watch. _Have we lost? Is this the end of it all? Brother! He’ll kill you!_

Mei was shrieking something when Al looked over at her knives she used to perform alchestry remotely. He was suddenly struck with an idea. 

_Equivalent Exchange._

The decision was easy. He would give his brother his arm back. The world stopped spinning. The panic subsided into determination. Yes, there was a way out. He was trembling, but he wasn’t sure if it was from fear or the state he was in. 

He saw the look of realization in Ed’s eyes. Oh, how he wished he hadn’t looked up. That expression of shock and fear was worse than the terrifying unknown of the Truth. 

He knew what he was doing. He knew he was going to be trapped in that white void, and for an indeterminate amount of time. He didn’t have time to quell the fear dripping into his vision. Instead, he shouted at May and split his armor right through his seal. 

He saw white.

He looked around and at his hands. They were still metal. He looked up. There he was. 

_There I am,_ he realized. His real flesh and blood, his real face, his real eyes, his real hair. 

He reached for his body, this time relaxing and letting his soul be pulled into its proper place. This felt right. _This time, we get it right_. 

Taunting laughter surrounded him. The white voice wanted to know if he knew what he had just done. Did he know he was stuck? Was he sure that his brother would be back?

Al didn’t even need to convince himself to be strong. He felt it in his bones, in his chest that breathed for the first time in many years. Ed will come back for him, and they’ll go outside together. 

All he needed to do was wait. 

* * *

Trisha is there in the Normalcy. She’s there with Ed and Al, back in Resembool, as Al is greeted by Den licking at his face for the first time in many years. The ground itself reverberates with a “welcome home”. 

Trisha is there with Winry working up the courage to open the door. She stands ready to see Winry keep her promise to cry when she sees Ed and Al with their bodies restored. 

She helps Al stand for the first time without his crutch. She’s smiling at Ed when he claps his hands together in an attempt to fix the roof. She stands next to Al and Ed as they gaze out at the sky and think about the future. 

She’s crying tears of joy when Ed and Winry have their first kid. She wipes away the tears on Winry’s face as she looks down at the bundle in her arms. 

Her bones are everywhere. Her body breathes on within Al’s chest, her heart beating within Ed’s heart. 

_Oh, my boys._ _You never had to bring me back. I was always here._

The wind whips Ed’s hair around and he breathes just a little easier. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay wow it's been awhile since I've wrote fic. happy quarantine ey! I hope you all are staying safe. 
> 
> The book Al talks about in the first bit is real!! It's called The Bravest Of Us All and it was my favorite book as a kid. I even have a copy that the illustrator signed. 
> 
> I'm newly re-active on Tumblr, so follow me there! If you post fma stuff I'll probably follow you back :D
> 
> [my blog](https://zags-on-em.tumblr.com)


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